Sinner Now | Bucky Barnes

Prologue

"Now everybody,"

The female tapped her foot, looking ahead at the sign in front of her.

"Have you heard,"

It wasn't but two people that stood in front of her, not counting the barista behind the counter.

"If you're in the game,"

Still, it was taking forever.

"Then the stroke's the word."

The lady wearing the apron sighed, but tried to keep a smile while she heard more on the one complicated order.

"Don't take no rhythm."

She sighed reluctantly, though, listening to the music playing from above her, surrounding her.

"Don't take no style."

She smiled, waiting for the best part.

"Gotta thirst for killin'."

She thought, here it comes...

"Grab your vial-"

You've gotta be-... Her thought was cut off as she listened to the speaker above her yell.

"Attention valued customers, due to the large order of creamer put into one cup of coffee, we are now out of it. You may not longer add it to your beverage, and any drinks that have creamer in it will have to do without."

There was a chorus of groans and complaints around her, also having a sigh escape her own mouth. Except, it wasn't because of the announcement, it was because they cut off the music.

When she turned her eyes away from the speaker above, she looked down to the man walking away from the microphone by the counter. He glared at the woman who raised her hands at his coworker, complaining how she wasn't responsible for how she likes her drink, claiming it's their fault for not stocking up on it knowing they had a morning rush.

"This is none of my fault!"

Hearing this, she stepped out of line, dodging the one who walked her way as she walked towards the counter.

"You mean you playing victim, ordering such a complicated order, when regularly you order a normal drink, isn't your fault? No, of course not." She said as she approached the middle-aged woman.

"Don't you talk to me like you know what's going on! You were in the back of the line, red. This doesn't concern you."

She leaned her head to the side, looking up thoughtfully, then back down to her all in a matter of a few seconds. "Actually, I'm pretty sure it does now that there's no more creamer available. And, I wasn't in the back of the line. I was actually the second person behind you. I would've already been gone, but you pushed your way through, so that didn't happen now did it, gray?"

She snuck her nose up with a scoff at the nickname.

"Now, if it's alright with you, I'd like to order my coffee without creamer."

"You have to wait your turn."

"Your order is over there," she turned and pointed a finger to the left of them. "And the others left because of your use of supplies." She turned back to her and gestured out behind them with a horizontal wave of her hand. "Now. Can I please order my coffee?" She looked back to her.

The male and female co-workers in front of them snorted.

Brielle almost smiled, but she didn't.

>>>

"Thanks again Brielle!" The barista called out to her with a wave. She waved back with a welcome and her own thank you, exiting the shop.

Since the announcement earlier interrupted her song, she had been listening to it through her old time, white, wired earbuds as she walked through the streets of New York City.

On her way to work, she saw a police chase. Soon after, she heard a helicopter rolling above her going North. Then, another. But the third one that passed her headed East. And it wasn't a police helicopter. It was Navy Blue. It passed her too fast to be able to read the white emblem on the sides of it, but it still intrigued her. Nonetheless, though, she shook it off and thought nothing more of it.

Just before arriving to work, she turned her head to look at the car that sat parked next to the curb. The meter has an hour left. She furrowed her brows and tugged the corner of her lips down at the sight.

Why would you have a pink mustang?

Barbie, you can do better than a pink mustang.

Then she noticed the messaged stickers on it.

Now it's certainly not mine. I can tell you that.

When she turned away from it, she saw figures start to surround her almost instantly. She slowed her walking. Still moving, she knitted her brows at the people standing around her. Some had weapons. She took a glance behind her, and scratched that with tucked in lips. Most had weapons. The only ones who didn't, were the two people standing in front of her. Both wore the same expression, only the eye patch wearing male seemed to be more overwhelming and intimidating. She came to a full stop, pulling her right earbud out, raising a brow.

"Something wrong?" She asked.

"Ms. Vander." He started, his hands behind his back. "We'd like to ask you a few questions."

"If it's about that car back there, I had nothing to do with it." She pointed a thumb back behind her, her pointer and middle finger's knuckles holding the wire of the earbud. When she finished talking, she flattened out her hand, cutting it short across the air in a gesture.

"It's nothing about the car, ma'am."

She nodded once, slowly.

"It's about what you did yesterday. Eleven a.m. sharp. Two blocks down from where you just were again today."

"That's specific." She commented.

The woman next to the eye patch man sucked in a breath.

The man and Ms. Vander weren't phased by it, though.

"Okay." She held her hands up in surrender. Not actual surrender, but more of the gesture.

"I presume you're on your way to work?"

"Yes." She nodded. "Sir."

He nodded as well. "Good. Nothing important you have to do while you're there?"

"Not that I know of."

"Good. Because even if you did, it wouldn't have mattered. You'd have no choice but to not attend it."

"I'm sorry?"

The man turned around, saying over his shoulder, "Follow me."

It wasn't a question.

It was an order.